Those Who Can, Teach

I’m not a rabbi, I never studied in yeshiva, and there’s so much I don’t know. So why am I teaching Torah?

I’m almost 60 and I just started teaching Torah. I never expected to do this – but now I see that I can. In fact, I think I must. Let me explain.

I did not start out on the path of Torah. Growing up in Queens in the 1950s, my upbringing was secular: no God, no shul, no Shabbat. I wondered what my friends did in Hebrew school, but my parents didn’t send me, so that was that.

And that could have been the end of my Jewish journey. But in 1991, I became a father. Soon enough my four-year-old son was asking questions. Such questions! He’s a deep thinker and his questions exposed how little I knew: “Daddy, how old is the world? Will it exist forever?” Gulp!

I needed to learn – and quickly – so I could answer him. I started taking classes, and then more classes. Now I had questions of my own that needed answers! I was inspired by Torah tapes from the Chofetz Chaim Heritage Foundation, classes in the Florence Melton Mini-School, and articles at Aish.com.

The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.

That also could have been the end of the journey. But the more I learned, the more I wanted to know.

I began learning with a study partner through Partners in Torah. We learned the weekly Torah portion, then some Talmud, then some classic works on spiritual growth. Later, I found a second study partner, and then a third (including a 5 am weekly phone session with Rabbi Jack Kalla from Aish.com). My study partners were remarkably patient and generous, and the hours I spent learning with them were the high points of the week.

Then my shul launched a new study group on Shabbos afternoons to learn Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), the beautiful tractate of the Mishna dealing with ethical living and improving one’s character. I had never even heard of Pirkei Avot, but I already loved textual study, so I volunteered to lead the new group.

For the next two years, we slowly made our way through Pirkei Avot, covering one mishna each week. I prepared by studying Ethics from Sinai and other commentaries in English translation.

We made a siyyum (festive meal) when we completed the tractate. I felt a sense of accomplishment from being involved in something so meaningful. And that (last time, I promise) also could have been the end of the journey.

Can I Do More?

This past December I heard a powerful talk by Rabbi Shlomo Farhi at the Aish HaTorah Partners Conference. He mentioned a song with the chorus, “Avraham, are we the children that you dreamed of?” Would our forefather Abraham be pleased with the lives we are living today? The question unsettled something at my core.

Rabbi Farhi continued: When we pray, we often refer to God as “Elokay Yaakov,” the God of Jacob. Great, but what about us? What have we done to make Him our God, too? And is it enough?

Well, that did it. Wiping away tears, I tried to think about what else I could do. Slowly, it dawned on me that I can teach other Jews what I know, which is Pirkei Avot.

So I thought about the Jews I know who are not involved in some kind of regular learning. Then I asked four of them if they would be willing to learn with me by phone once a week. To my surprise, all four said “yes,” and they actually seemed excited about it!

Then I made a brief business visit to the home of a man I barely know. As I was leaving, I saw a baseball cap near the door that said, “Maimonides.” I asked about the cap.

He explained that he studied the Rambam’s “Guide to the Perplexed” back in high school and loved it. So I took a deep breath and asked if he’d like to learn with me. Once again, to my surprise, the answer was “yes.”

So now I learn weekly with five individuals, and they stimulate me with great questions, and I work hard to find good answers. It’s my way of grappling with the challenge that Rabbi Farhi posed.

But this raises a question: Who am I to teach Torah? I’m not a rabbi, I never studied in yeshiva, and there’s so much I don’t know.

Here is the answer given by the Chofetz Chaim.

At Agudath Yisrael's first meeting in the early 1930s, the Chofetz Chaim urged everyone to fulfill their obligation to do whatever they could to save their fellow Jews from the forces of assimilation that were raging through Europe during the era of "isms." His urging met with protest. "How we can tell others to do what we haven't perfected ourselves?"

The Chofetz Chaim responded with a parable. A traveler was invited by a wealthy man to have a cup of tea. When the guest looked into his cup, he saw sediment that had settled on the bottom. "Where is your water from?" he asked. When told that the town's water came from a local river, he advised his host that the town needed a filtration system. The system was installed, and thereafter, the water was crystal clear. It worked well until a huge fire broke out some time later and burned down half the town.

The next time the traveler was in town, he heard what had happened and inquired, "Couldn't you put out the fire?" The people replied, "It took a long time for the water to work its way through the filtration system, and there wasn't enough filtered water available to quickly control the flames."

"Fools!" said the traveler. "You don't need filtered water to put out a fire!"

The Chofetz Chaim went on to explain to those who resisted his call to outreach, "There is a fire raging in Klal Yisrael. We must grab whatever water we have and use it to douse the flames. Every Jew, on whatever level he or she is on, has to use his own capabilities to help extinguish the raging flames around us.”

The question is not, “How can I teach?” The real question is: “How can I not teach?”

Thank you, Rabbi Farhi.

This article is dedicated in loving memory of the author's father, Reuven ben Ya'akov z''l.

Click here if you would like a free study partner to learn with you over the phone.

Visitor Comments: 8

(6)
Anonymous,
January 17, 2012 4:19 PM

On an everyday level

Are some turned off, they don't want to teach Torah. Look, you do whether you think you are. Someone ask you what your opinion is about what was in the news, you have the opportunity to teach them Torah. You answer, no you are not quoting a verse, you don't say "this is what the Torah says" though your thoughts are in line with Torah and you answer. That person, has just taught Torah. You've been to shul, later that week someone calls you, and you are repeating what the Rabbi said, you are teaching Torah. Your in a conversation about Israel, the need arises to defend Israel, you are teaching Torah. Someone is reading a book about the Holocaust for the first time and shares with you what the book is about, you have read several articles about the Holocaust on Aish, and share what you have learned from them, you are teaching Torah. You read Torah, you listen to Rabbis teach Torah, you read Jewish literature, you visit Aish, even your time in shul and that's it, many are teaching Torah without thinking about it. For those turned off by thinking they don't want to teach any formal classes on Torah, you already are in your everyday conversations without thinking about it. Every teacher has a teacher. If you have a teacher, you can become a teacher. You learn more as you go. Having a study partner, two heads are better than one. Their view, their insights can enlighten your own. A study phone partner, can be the beginning to something bigger. It's one on one, you build up your confidence with one person sharing what you know. You deal with the challenges of someone else that doesn't agree with you sometimes. That's a hurdle to conquer, for there will always be someone out there who doesn't agree with you. You learn to be strong, in the face of opposition. You learn to look from all angles, for better understanding. You learn to communicate Torah teaching, Torah values, in turn it helps you to live by the Torah, the Torah becomes your own words.

(5)
Silky,
January 16, 2012 4:40 AM

If I can, ANYONE can

When someone from Aish approched me to become a mentor/teacher for Partners in Torah, I said it was absurd. I was out of school over 20 years and I was always a bad student in my Jewish studies. The woman asked if I could read English. I said yes. She said there are so many good English sources, that my inability to read Rashi wasn't important. So, here it is almost 10 years later. My Partner and I are going strong. She says she has gained so much but I have also gained SO MUCH.
People, there is a fire. Put it out. If not for your brother or sister Jew, then for yourself. If I could, so can you.
Thank you, Aish HaTorah.

(4)
Anonymous,
January 16, 2012 3:30 AM

teaching

On one occasion i was challenged sarcastically by a Rabbi if i wanted to teach Chumash, the sixth day. I shocked him with a ' Yes ". He spent the next week in complete distraction and worry, contacting me sevearl times, but i would not return his calls. The die was cast, and besides he was most frightened that i would show him up , which of course i did because he is not particularly blessed with teaching skills. Most rabbis are not willing to give up their role as teacher. Some are not willing to give up even the slightest role.
The upshot of it is that for most rabbis the phrase is:
Those who do , do
Those who cannot do, teach
Those who cannot teach, teach teachers.
This is not sour grapes. It is what it is, no big deal. We do not need rabbis to lead us. As far as i am concerned that is what is advocated in this article.

Miriam,
January 17, 2012 3:31 PM

Your Rabbi is unusual. Get a different one.

Most Rabbis are more than happy to have congregants join them on the teaching end. So what are Rabbis for, if congregants can teach classes? Rabbis are there to lead, to give advice, to be a spiritual father, so to speak.

Anonymous,
January 17, 2012 3:37 PM

We would have no Torah today without the Rabbis

G-d specifically made the Torah explainable only with the Torah Sh'Baal Peh, the Torah passed down from Sinai, by heart, from father to son, and taught by the Rabbis. Thank G-d, today we have many books, written by the Rabbis, that makes us able to understand through reading these books, but there is no true Judaism without Torah Rabbis.
Interestingly, if you read up on Torah books specifically written by one Rabbi, he can be considered your rebbi, your teacher, even though you've never met him and perhaps he's passed on.
Rabbi Yehuda Zev Manchester considered himself a student of the Chofetz Chaim although he met him only at one point, for a few weeks. He read his Torah books so often and so thoroughly, and his teachings guided his life to the point that he called him "my rebbi", my teacher. And it is taught that in the afterlife, such a rebbi would recognize you as his student! Through reading his books!

(3)
Michal,
January 15, 2012 8:22 PM

If our heart is full, our lips open by themselves

It is exactly the same, when you are in love. Without much thinking about it you speak about your loved one. Why should it be different with Hashem. If we love Him, we talk about Him. There is something in us, that wants, that everybody loves Him. And we explain as best as we can, why. And to be a Jew means also "loved by Him in a special way- and He wants to be loved by us also in a special, unique way, He in His Torah has told us about." Its not only a possibility, it is a blessing!

(2)
Yitz,
January 15, 2012 4:33 PM

http://b-2.co.il/
Is an Israel-based organization which matches "phone chavrutot" - learning pairs - people who want to teach with those who want to learn. 1-800-202-502 in Israel.

(1)
Adrian,
January 15, 2012 12:15 PM

What a Challenge!

This is a question that has been on my mind for some time about teaching. Now I understand by the term to teach what you know. As written in your article, 'There is a fire raging in Klal Yisrael. We must grab whatever water we have and use it to douse the flames." Thanks for this article and challenge, Michael.

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

With stories and insights,
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